I went to a $5,000 ‘man camp’ in California. It took a surprising turn
I went to a $5,000 ‘man camp’ in California. It took a surprising turn
I went to a 5 000 man – There’s a moment when someone looks into your soul, isn’t there? It’s not a comfortable feeling. I had that sensation during a session at a secluded retreat in Sonoma, California, where I found myself face-to-face with a group of men who had peeled back layers of their lives in just three days. The atmosphere was intense, and my own defenses began to falter. “I feel like we’re missing whatever you’re wanting to connect on,” said a woman across from me, her words a subtle critique of my guarded demeanor. It was life-coaching jargon for “I see through your nonsense.”
A retreat designed to confront masculinity
My journey to this place was driven by a story about a five-day, all-male retreat aimed at reframing relationships with masculinity. The concept itself was intriguing, but what made it stand out was its founder: Lori Jean Glass, a life coach who had previously worked in licensed treatment facilities. She now leads these camps through her company, Pivot, and has expanded her approach to include male-only programs. The idea was simple — but its execution felt radical. Men, we’ve been told, are facing a mental health crisis, and this exclusive camp was one potential solution.
The retreat was steeped in New Age ideals, a hallmark of California’s wellness culture. Glass had insisted we observe the camp, but only if we participated ourselves. This meant that CNN Senior National Correspondent David Culver and I would be subjected to the same process as the other men. The catch? We’d be expected to leave our phones behind — a sacrifice that felt almost sacrificial for journalists accustomed to constant connectivity.
As we arrived after a two-hour drive from San Francisco, Glass seemed slightly uneasy, as if she were wondering whether we’d be able to commit to the experience. But the group was already gathering, and there was no turning back. The first evening was marked by a blend of camaraderie and vulnerability, as men began to open up about their struggles. One participant, Matt, shared his grief over losing his father, a former NFL player and college football coach, whose legacy he felt compelled to live up to. Another, Jason, spoke of his wife’s recent battle with breast cancer, a loss that had reshaped his sense of self as a caregiver.
Geoff, meanwhile, voiced his fears about his children preparing for college, a transition that left him feeling like an empty nest. These stories, raw and unfiltered, created a space where the walls between participants dissolved. It was clear that the camp was more than a getaway — it was an emotional deep dive. The structure was simple: daily sessions focused on vulnerability, group discussions, and introspection, guided by Glass and her team of predominantly female coaches.
The manosphere and its challenges
The manosphere, a term often used to describe a network of men who have embraced a defiant, sometimes misogynistic worldview, has been a subject of growing concern. This ecosystem, shaped by social media and cultural shifts, has contributed to male isolation and loneliness, especially during the pandemic. While many have criticized the manosphere for its toxic tendencies, few have explored the potential for healing within it. That’s where Glass’s work steps in.
“Men need a safe space to talk about their emotions without judgment,” Glass explained before the retreat began. Her belief in the importance of these camps was evident in every detail, from the quiet setting to the strict no-phone rule. The goal was to create an environment where men could shed their societal masks and confront their inner turmoil. But was this five-day escape truly enough to address the deep-rooted issues they faced?
As the days passed, the intensity of the experience grew. The men shared traumas buried for years — childhoods marked by silence, careers defined by competition, and relationships strained by fear of being seen as weak. It was a stark contrast to the typical male-centric spaces they were used to, where emotional expression was often discouraged. “This is the first time I’ve felt like I can breathe,” one participant admitted, his voice trembling with emotion. The camp’s focus on vulnerability was a deliberate shift from the manosphere’s emphasis on dominance.
My own journey was unexpected. I had always been told to remain objective, to keep my personal feelings separate from the story. But here, I was forced to confront my own biases. The experience challenged my understanding of masculinity and my role as a journalist. “Sometimes the best way to tell a story is to live it,” I realized, my skepticism giving way to curiosity. The retreat had become more than a reporting assignment — it was a mirror reflecting my own unspoken fears.
A transformative immersion
By the end of the week, the men had formed bonds that felt more authentic than anything I’d witnessed in years. The camp had not just been a space for reflection; it had been a catalyst for change. “We’re not just talking about masculinity,” Glass said during a final session, “we’re redefining what it means to be a man in a world that demands so much.” Her words resonated deeply, as did the stories of the men who had found a voice in that retreat.
As I packed up my belongings and prepared to leave, I felt a mix of emotions. The camp had offered a glimpse into a different kind of masculinity — one that valued connection over competition, openness over suppression. It was a bold experiment in healing, and one that had left me both humbled and inspired. The $5,000 fee seemed justified in the end, not just for the insights gained, but for the personal transformation that unfolded.
Back in San Francisco, I found myself thinking about the manosphere with fresh eyes. The retreat had shown me that men are not just products of their environments — they are also shaped by the spaces where they can finally be themselves. Glass’s work, though unconventional, was a reminder that solutions to complex issues often lie in the most unlikely places. And sometimes, that means letting go of control and allowing the story to take you where it will.
As the sun set over Sonoma, I realized that this experience had been more than a report. It was a journey into the heart of a man’s world, one that had opened my mind and redefined my perspective. The camp had not just helped its participants — it had helped me see the silent struggles of men in a new light. And for that, I was grateful.